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Eating dirt..
Ahmed Seif Hashed
He used to eat dirt with me when I was younger, my cousin (Salem Ahmed Muhammad Hashem), who is about ten months older than me.. Our appetite for eating dirt is due to the malnutrition we lived together.. Bad nutrition was some of us.. I accompanied our miserable childhood day by day, and I realized some of my adolescence And my first youth.. It always made me tired, burdened me, and kept me until the beginning of my enrollment in the military college..
Decades passed without knowing the truth of my motive for eating dirt in my early childhood, other than its palatable and delicious taste, and my enjoyment of it when I used it.. Perhaps I attributed this condition or some of it to my young age and lack of understanding of the harm, or the inability to distinguish.. and perhaps I attributed some of it to The stubbornness of boys and their reactions to punishment, or out of ignorance and curiosity, which prohibition turned into rumination and habit that is not without pleasure and enjoyment.
My seclusion with dirt was very enjoyable, but it was not without a certain punishment, even if it was delayed sometimes.. The remnants of dirt paste with my saliva in my mouth and its surroundings exposed my action without equivocation.. After more than fifty years, I read that the reason why a child eats dirt is due to the lack of iron. In his body..
You eat dirt because of malnutrition, and a lack of the iron element that your body needs, then you are punished by beatings for a reason beyond your control, and you may be beaten with iron because your body lacks the element of iron, and you will be subjected to more torment, and knots will live in you, and you will continue to witness growing inside you and in the depths of your awareness and consciousness. Subsequent disturbances and behavioral deviations that harm you and others, and the justice of the earth will be absent from you, and the justice of heaven will be delayed until the “day of judgment.”
I ate dirt in the age of my first childhood.. I was a victim of my circumstances since my childhood.. a victim of authority, ignorance, oppression, and wrong upbringing.. a victim of poverty, need and destitution.. a victim of the reality that many factors participated in its production and manufacture..
However, what is unfortunate today, when I live in my fifth decade or leave it towards my sixty, is that there are those who want and even insist to keep me captive to my want and need.. Who wants me to eat dirt for the rest of my life.. Who wants to live as a victim to the end of life, concerned about myself, Drenched in the details of my daily life, burdened with my heavy suffering.
Here are those who want me and others to remain preoccupied with the corruption and violations of the authority, and to prevent people from defending the rights and freedoms of people, but also trying to pull out the bloody nails that are trying to dig into the rock, and more than he who wishes that we could not even breathe, which they envy us and comfort us for.. It is a covenant Brutal was not calculated..
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In my early childhood, my mother used to beat me to eat dirt, I find her on another occasion she insistently calls me to eat dirt… Amazement, paradox and confusion, and among them a tortured and miserable childhood, burdened with ignorance and severe deprivation..
My mother would accompany me with her on some days, and she would visit the grave of her grandfather “Sheikh Hayya”, and the place included his shrine, his room, two domes, and some annexes.. employed in the alcove of the chamber or at the edge of the tomb; Whoever comes on another day to light the darkness of our grandfather “Sheikh is alive” and my mother does the same, with the grave and shrine of our grandfather Sheikh Ahmed near him, whose grave was perhaps an arm’s length in a modest room, and a flat roof not crowned with a dome..
I saw my mother lighting the shrine of our grandfather “Sheikh Hayy” with candles and light, and she was feeling overjoyed, and a great happiness that could not contain her.. Then she would put her hand in a niche on the wall of the tomb inside, and take out some crumbs of dirt, eat a little of it, and give me a little of it to eat. She was urging and encouraging me to devour it, because – as you think – it is hidden in the secret of her grandfather who came from Hadramout to land here, perhaps a jurist, a scholar, and the owner of “dignities”.
I still remember my mother encouraging me and urging me to eat dirt, and she even begins to devour some of it.. She insists that I devour my share of it.. She mimics me doing the same to her.. She asks me to do what she does.. She does to me as a mother does to her child while she feeds him. After weaning, she was trying hard to make me understand – while I was raking in the dirt – that I would get out of the place and had been provided with something that was not there when I entered it..
Although I lost the pleasure of the soil that I was accustomed to, and suffer from the punishment of devouring it, and despite this soil losing its softness, the spirituality of the place, its prestige, the majesty of the station, and the “dignities” of its owner, according to my mother’s narrations, and the praises and honors of her grandfather, and the secrets it carries. It is worthwhile, or this is what my mother used to teach me at the time, and she narrated it to me with high confidence and unwavering certainty.
If I was exposed to a disease or something bad, she would call her grandfather “Sheikh Hayy” and her grandmother “Janoub” on her mother’s side, and with them was my father’s grandfather “Sheikh Ahmed”, and sometimes she added “Ahmed Ibn Alwan” and “Shagheth” to heal me, revive me, and spare me all evil, and remove all harm from me…
I used to think as a child that this dirt that I devoured was one of the remains of the bones and remains of my mother’s grandfather, but at a late stage I realized that it was from above the grave, not from its inside, and that the remains and remains of my mother’s grandfather are still buried deep in the grave and the place .. Despite my mother’s belief in the magical effect of her grandfather’s soil However, I did not taste the deliciousness of the dirt that I used to eat or got used to, and I used to devour it secretly and hidden from my mother’s eyes.
And just as my mother insists on eating her grandfather’s dirt, she also does with me drinking milk.. As soon as I finish drinking a quantity of it, she begs me urgently and in a low voice to add “drink.. zaid drink.. zaid drink..drink salty..drink is healthy.” Your body.”. Her low voice was as if she did not want anyone to hear between us, and she kept trying and trying to drink more until I despaired that I would return.. She loved me more than my father, and they influenced him in everything, even the milk he drank every evening..
My mother used to insist, and make me drink more cow’s milk, I feel that she wants me bigger and stronger quickly.. She wants me older and grow up prematurely.. Maybe I felt while she was pressing that she wanted me to grow up at once.. As for eating dirt from the grave, she thought that she She entrusts me with the secret of her grandfather, and protects me from every disease, evil, and dislike.
I wasn’t tempted by cow’s milk, but Nido’s milk was what I liked and liked; Perhaps because it was part of me, and it used to meet my need, when my mother’s udder was not enough for me, who was suffering, and I am still less than two years old.. I still desire to this day to pour it into my mouth in large quantities, as I used to do in my childhood and school years, but rather And adolescence as well, so that I appear before myself as an unnatural person, and I give in to him with greed.
As soon as I was a child in the first year of school, most likely, I saw a dream, in which I led the people in prayer in the shrine, and I saw “Sheikh is alive” and other things, I forgot their details, even though the vision was – on that day – like the dawn in terms of clarity and details, but as if it was true. No vision..
My mother and father were unusually interested in this vision, and they asked me to re-tell it to their ears, and I watched an outpouring of joy and a remarkable interest from them in what I narrate. …and most importantly, throughout this long life, I remained coherent, warn of falling, and warn of horrific falls twice and a thousand..
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Continued..
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